


By these rivers that we drown at

by FeatherQuill



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dean Winchester, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love Confessions, M/M, Sibling Incest, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherQuill/pseuds/FeatherQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leave it to Sam and Dean Winchester to dance around the often mentioned elephant in the room. Leave it to everyone else around them to point it out to them, subtle or not  -and leave it to Crowley, well  - to being Crowley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By these rivers that we drown at

**Author's Note:**

> Now, after a friend made me join the amazing and crazy world that is Supernatural and got me hooked on it she also got me thinking about a lot of things on the show itself (knowing full well that I wouldn´t be able to resist long in writing something - yeah we know each other that well. xD ) That of course then involved talking and she mentioned an idea she read in a drabble and asked if I could write a few words in that direction (Which of course although I never read aforementioned drabble ended up being nearly 9.000 words in two days and gaining plot. ) So, here we are, feel free to let me know what you think and it would be very nice if you could leave a line or two, so I know how did on this first try at those lovely fictional boys. <3

There is a moment of clearance in everybody’s life – even if said life is as shot to hell as that of the Winchester brothers. It comes as no surprise that said moment of clarity comes to the older brother, Dean - in the backroom of Harvelles Roadhouse when he is in search for the hard stuff that makes him forget just a little more and also shut the voice down that sounds so much like Bobby Singer that he needs to stop going down that road unless he wants to end up like his father. Bile rises in his throat at the mere thought but he swallows it like always and instead he focuses on the irony of the whole thing because in his epic moment of clearance Dean is blind drunk. 

He knows this because there is no other way in hell he would be seeing what he is seeing. He dimly wonders if it would be possible for him to have stepped into another parallel universe or maybe has unbeknownst to him pissed of a witch enough to curse him. No – his fuzzy brain supplies, he  
hasn´t

“The fuck is going on Sammy?”

He more or less yells , bottle of gin dangling from his fingers and crashing to the floor and boy doesn´t he just want to laugh once Sam looks at him like a deer caught in headlights. 

That wouldn´t be the problem, really, it wouldn´t. It would be fan-fucking-tastic when Sam wouldn´t be naked. And not alone. Not alone, he could live with, really, he wants Sam to be happy because in his mind there is nobody more worthy of endless happiness than his brother. Still, he knows that there is a voice in his head – deep down and dark that wants the blood bond connecting them cut. It´s not that he wants Sam out of his life, it´s just how much he wants him in it that makes him turn on his heel and storm out the door without looking back. He doesn´t look at Sam and he doesn´t look at Jo and they never speak of it. 

Not once, not even in passing – maybe, he tells himself , Sam doesn´t want to bring it up out of respect for the Dead , Dean thinks a few years later and maudlin after sitting in a bar he doesn´t remember the name off after hunting down a pack of werewolves that were now nothing but grime on his leather jacket. He gave a snort. 

They are good for Winchester standards and that means alive. Giving something that sounds dangerously close to a cackle and makes a few heads turn, he orders another beer. From the looks of it the Barkeeper is onto him. Well, screw him – if Dean wants to be drunk, he damn will gets his way. Another humorless sound leaves his windpipe and he misses his mouth on his next swallow. There is a sigh in front of him and he squints his eyes shut. 

“Alright Mate, I am cutting you off. Whoever that is about, it ain´t worth wrapping your sweet ride around a three.”

The mention of his Baby makes him smile but then he thinks of Sam again and his mood turns sour. 

“That right?” He squints at the name tag of the man in front of him and bares his teeth like some fucking dog wanting to mark his territory. “Say Benny – what about I uh.. I drink this and have a nice talk to the lady of the house. You know, seeing as you are occupied with saving humanity going to hell.”

Dean Winchester does not giggle – or so he tells himself. He may be a bit suicidal but he doesn´t giggle. Benny is tall and broad and could, even if he doesn´t have the reflexes of a hunter knock him into the next century. Instead of rising to the bait Benny turns his head to someone sweeping the floor. Blue eyes, tousled hair and a wearing a suit in a dump like this. For lack of better knowledge Dean dubs him GQ.  
“Hey Cas, you hear that?”

GQ looks up, setting his broom aside and blinking. From what Dean understands the guy didn´t even hear a word that had been exchanged between the Barkeeper and him for he pulls headphones out of the depths of his ruined hair and scowls. 

“What?”

Benny grins, eyes warm and blinking.

“Nothing, angel – just that you´re the lady of the house now and not just the manager. What do you say to that.”

GQ or Cas -as he has been called just stares off into space.

“That you´re off your medication Benjamin and that you can consider yourself lucky that I fell for your brutish charms and married you before hiring you. Anything else?”

Dean blinks, Benny just swipes down the counter in front of him with practiced ease while the man he has been talking to continues to sweep after plugging his headphones back in place. 

“Now, as I was saying. I am cutting you off, brother and I won´t be swinging at you either because my brawling days are over. Just so we´re clear, you even so much of thinking touching the lady of the house as you put it, I am going to bite of your dick as if I were a vampire – understand?”

Dean can´t help it, he laughs until beer comes out of his nose. He wipes it and shakes his head, ruefully accepting the handkerchief Benny hands him and before he knows it he spills all of his feelings. Maybe it is the beer or maybe it is the easy way of the taller man – or maybe his dorky companion that slides next to Dean and sips water, munching on a Sandwich that for some reason reminds Dean of his childhood -Peanut butter and jelly. His mom used to make them for the both of them and so he is thinking of Sammy again. 

Benny offers him no pity while he retches in the bathroom while Cas gripes about having to call Anna for he sure as hell won´t be cleaning that up, thank you very much. When he stumbles out he feels worse and nearly falls over his own feet until Cas guides him down to the barstool.

“Despite your life sounding like the most horrific soap opera I am being forced to watch, I think you have another problem, if I might say so.”

In all his life Dean had never met people like Benny or Cas and that did say something he guessed.

“You already did.”

When he was drunk, he also tended to point out the obvious but Cas just ignored him and rattled on. 

“Your problem is – this guy, how can you feel cheated by him if you never even once dropped a hint? I mean, I am very sorry to inform you of this but I am under the distinct impression that subtlety isn´t your strong suit and that as you perhaps might put it – rolling with it, doesn´t get you anywhere either. Complicated, yes. Unsolvable, no.”

Dean opened his mouth but shut it quickly again. For all his sounding like a stuffy librarian the man has a point. So he grabs his face in his hands and plants a wet kiss on his forehead before throwing bills on the counter to cover his tap. He doesn´t even give Benny the chance to respond to that before hurrying out the door, in his haste nearly tripping again. Cas just blinks after the man and goes back to devouring his sandwich. 

“Benjamin, dear - I think maybe I should rethink my career choice. How about shrink?”

Benny just groans. Cas pouts but lets it rest. 

Dean has a spring in his step when he bounds into the door of their motel room, the alcohol giving him a pleasant buzz. 

“Sammy I -”

He stops dead in his tracks when Sam just looks at him. He seems death tired and his stubble is on the verge of growing into a full blown beard. Sam isn´t a kid anymore. 

“Don´t call me Sammy.”

Sam says on autopilot, stretching his long limbs and squinting. 

“You are drunk Dean.”

Sam Winchester, master of observation, just like his brother. Dean definitely wants to punch something and be it the ugly as fuck wall next to the ratty bed. 

“Why´d you fuck Jo?”

For a moment Sam just stares at him as if he has asked him to hang the moon. Being as tall as he is Sam might be well able to do that. Not a good thought to start a serious conversation to. 

“You are drunk Dean.”

Sam repeats with the patience someone once upon a time wanting to be a lawyer can muster. That makes the older mans chest clench painfully but like always he shoves it down until he cannot reach it anymore. 

“So what? You´re chickening out on me, Samantha?”

That always gets a rise out of Sammy, always has and Dean is done in playing fair. There is a hard edge to Sam nowadays, his once pristine soul painted like his body has been in copious amounts of blood. 

“I am heading out.”

Is all Sam says and he about has it, grabs him by his arm and hauls him close.

“No you are not. Past your curfew, _Sammy_.”

Maybe he is a glutton for punishment. Maybe he thinks he deserves that. You do, his father yells inside his head while at the same time a voice not unlike Bobby calls him an idjit of epic proportions and he thinks he deserves it all. Sam shoves him, making him crash into the wall behind him with remarkable force. 

“Don´t call me that.”

If Dean wouldn´t be so drunk he would recognize the defeat in his brothers voice and the desperation that creeps into it as well but he is drunk off his ass and he is hurting. Hurting that it never will be able to find a way that would ban them to hell for all eternity and ruin their lives even more. 

“Why, did she call you that while you nailed her on the beer kegs?”

His voice becomes a shrill ugly falsetto.

“Oh, Sammy, Sammy -please, please give it-”

Whatever else he wants to say gets stuck in his throat and pain explodes behind his eyelids. He can feel blood trickling from his nose and clutches it. If he is very lucky it is just bruised instead of broken but he doesn´t really count on his lucky these days. Sam looks at him when he rights himself and the look in his brothers eyes is more painful than the right hook to his nose has been. 

“You don´t get it Dean and you never will but even for you , that is a new low. I am heading out.”

The slamming of the door rings in Deans head even half an hour after Sam has left. It´s better like that, he thinks and raids the mini fridge until he is wasted. It´s not long after the last shot of tequila that he passes out cold on the bed and still Sams face haunts him even in his dreams. 

It´s not that Sam has never thought about that night , in fact it was the opposite and he had never quite stopped feeling guilty about it. Jo had been kind , they had been drunk and she had known because he had confided in her. Had told her about the ache in his heart that cannot be fulfilled – _musn´t_ be fulfilled and she had looked at him, really looked at him and then he understood. Neither of them talked about it and when Dean in all his wisdom and his cursed luck had chosen that moment of insanity to barge in on them – well, it had been to late for rational thinking. Sam tittered into his Drink.

“Something funny about that Margarita , Moose?”

His head shot up and he turned it so fast that he heard the bones in his neck crick. 

“Crowley.”

Just his luck, he guessed and twirled the cocktail umbrella between his fingers, contemplating if he would be able to cut the demons head off with it. Crowley just tutted and slid onto the bar stool next to him. It didn´t help his already dark mood that Crowley had helped them more than once in the past. 

“Now, what´s with this tone lad. Aren´t you even considering my feelings in all of this? I am hurt.”

He snatched a peanut from the bowl sitting on the counter, gaze darting around.

“Where´s Squirrel? Playing with his nuts again?”

Now Crowley got under his skin on his best and sober days but this time it didn´t even take five minutes to make Sam jump up and grab him around his throat. The whole place fell silent except for Crowleys wheezing. 

“Take it outside.”

The voice was calm and there was no menace in it but Sam knew when it was to best not to cause a scene so he dropped the shorter man to his feet before throwing some bills on the table and stalking out of the joint, closely followed by Crowley.

“Holy Smokes Moose, you must be really out of it if something like that makes your rocket go boom.”

Sam just glared at the shorter man who was flicking off dust from his ever pristine suit. 

“Go to Hell.”

Crowley gave him a long suffering look and rolled his eyes. 

“Now that is just low, must you bring work into this?”

Sam didn´t rise to the bait. 

“Actually, this is a chance meeting, believe it or not. I was in the area simply for business as usual and then I saw you, poor lost thing that you are. Someone dump your gigantic ass? Something bothering you that made you run? I am all ears, you know. People used to love telling me their stories. It´s a gift, you know.”

Leave it to Crowley to insult him and still be right about the situation.

“You can shove your gift up your ass.”

Something red flashed in Crowleys gaze and Sam cursed that he had left the motel without holey water or the knife in his haste to flee.

“Mind your tone , boy. I am the king of hell and you are nothing but a bag of bones when it comes down to it. Now as I was saying I was just minding my own business.” 

His gaze flickered into another direction and Sams eyes followed it to the man whom had told them to take it outside. 

“Minding your own business in making people sell their soul in some dump?”

The blue eyed man that had been watching them cleared his throat. 

“My establishment isn´t a dump. Thank you very much – and what business Mr.Crowley and I have is frankly none of yours.”

Sam blinked. 

“You´re a demon?”

Crowley rubbed a hand over his face.  
“No Moose, he´s from the other division. You know, upstairs, the great place where fat children sit naked on clouds and play harps. His name is Castiel.”

Sam blinked again.

“I think you already told enough, Mr.Crowley. I really wouldn´t want this evening to end in a bloodbath after the floors and premises have all been cleaned by hard working people. We do have an agreement on that, haven´t we?”

Much to Sams amazement Crowley backed up, holding his hands up in mock surrender but Sam know that the demon at least had some modicum of respect for the other man who appeared to be an Angel. Not that Dean and him had never met angels before in their life on the road but this was – well unusual. 

“For Fuck´s sake get that stick out of your arse Cas. Is just wanting to take a look-sie at one of my besties not allowed? What the Hell happened to Heaven?”

Naturally the commotion didn´t go unnoticed and they were soon joined by a more burly man Sam recognized as the bartender who had been serving him drinks for the last hour. Maybe he was tripping

“You have made an deal? With an Angel?”

It sounded like the most idiotic inside joke of all time. Castiel sighed and spoke before Crowley could open his mouth again, stepping in front of the other man that had come out due to their shouting. 

“I do not know who you are exactly but I presume that by knowing what Mr.Crowley is you aren´t new to the supernatural and , other than Mr.Crowley I do not like to , what was the phrase again – ride a dead horse , or something of the like. Or as you would say I will cut it short. Mr.Crowley and I do not have a deal as you so adequately put it. We have an agreement.”

Sam hated the fact that his interest was peaked. 

“Oh?”

Crowley narrowed his eyes but otherwise he was silent, although Sam would bet that he was dying to interrupt the other man judging from the twitch of his left eye. 

“I helped Mr.Crowley settle a dept with my brother. Gabriel.”

Sam groaned inwardly and apparently out loud as well . Benny who had been silent until now just snorted.

“Hey angel, looks like not only I really have a beef with my brother in law.”

Sam, normally quick to follow all turns of events was at a loss for a moment. 

“Wait – you´re _married_?”

He had to hand it to Crowley that the demon had been able to keep his trap shut until then. 

“So let me get that straight Moose. An Angel and the King of Hell make a Deal for said Angel to life his version of Happy Days on this god forsaken ball of mud with a sailor that has questionable taste in ink and booze and all you´re getting from it is that they are married? Seriously, did you put something in his drink?”

When neither answered Crowley sighed again. 

“Ah he is just his stupid old self then. Now, I am gonna leave the two of you to your frolicking and take my...not worst enemy with me?”

It took Sam a moment that he was the person that had been spoken too and still could´t grasp it. That could have been because he was drunk off his ass but hell would freeze over before he would admit any of that to Crowley of all people. 

Castiel meanwhile simply watched them move further away from the bar.. 

“You know Cas, you´re terrible liar.”

Bennys voice was soft spoken but there was a little amusement in there as well. 

“So? What if I know who the boy is. And who his brother is as well? I learned about human culture, you know. Wasn´t it you who taught me the concept of the so called white lie?”

Benny gave a sigh. 

“Yes, yes I did.”

Naturally Castiel seemed pleased before his eyes shone with some sadness that he couldn´t interfere in the lives of Dean and Sam Winchester since he had chosen a less than angelic life himself but he was sure that they would find a solution like they always had done. 

“Something bothering you, angel?”

Cas only snapped out of it once Benny pinched him.

“Yes. Why does Crowley call him Moose? Neither his body or hair are that reminiscent of said animal.”

Benny just sighed and steered Cas inside – as if his night hadn´t been long or weird enough. 

An hour later Sam Winchester still thinks he might be dreaming or once again be trapped in an alternate universe. There is no way in hell this could be his life. Something sour sits in his throat when he thinks about it, his life and what it should have been – could have been. Still, he knows this is quite real and The King of Hell is sitting across him in some taco joint an marveling at the prices for Onion Rings.

“Maybe I should branch out.”

Crowley mutters. Sam thinks he is not drunk enough but he is still aware of the ever sly presence the man has. Most people might not see it but there is a reason why the demon is still around, how he survives. It is his knowledge, his wit and all the things he observes.

“Get to the point or get lost.”

As per usual Crowley doesn´t even flinch at his harsh tone.

“Now, don´t get your knickers in a twist, snookums. I am just here to talk.”

As per usual Sam just doesn´t know when to shut it.

“Yeah, right – out of the goodness of your heart.”

Crowley grins so large that Sam is afraid for a moment his face might split in two and the dark satisfaction he feels with that is really something that should scare him but doesn´t. There are other things that scare him but he washes them down with an unhealthy amount of beer and greased food he usually doesn´t touch with a ten foot pool.

“As you know I don´t really have a heart but it is nice of you to finally make smalltalk.”

There is something in that tone that makes the hairs in Sams neck stand on end but still he cannot stand up and just go, because leaving here would mean going back to a hotel room and face what he is running from without admitting it. 

“Now, as I already said this has been a chance meeting but I do believe in faith. There is after all a reason we are gods children. Or something else you want to put in an overpriced quote of the day calendar that sells like hot chocolate at Christmas at Wall-Mart.”

As always with Crowley Sam was running out of patience and Crowley, demonic bastard that he was knew it. Knew that Sam couldn´t kill him in the middle of a crowded place, wouldn´t kill him because they would eventually need him on the grander scale. 

“Get to the point.”

There was that dangerous glint in Crowleys eyes again - a pure demonic undercurrent that left no doubt of his non existent humanity.

“The problem with you humans is that you got morals and standards and the more you cling to them , the more you drive yourself away from the thing you want most in this world. No matter how much you want it, you´ll decide on what seems right. Now, before I leave and attend to my other business – as a token of my eternal gratitude – get your bloody head out your ass before it kills you, you are worth nothing to anybody dead when shit goes down!”

Before Sam could even think of replying something to that, Crowley had vanished into thin air leaving him to his dark thoughts and shitty food.

The thing about Crowley is that he always knows where to dig so that it hurts and boy does it hurt to have your truths laid out in front of you casually. It´s not his thing to rage and throw things around like Dean does. Maybe he is the more collected One of them and that alone should scare him to god knows where.  
Instead of thinking further on the matter or Crowleys voice nagging at the back of his already troubled mind he made his way back to the motel they were staying in.  
He would be lying if he would say that he wasn´t relieved to see that Dean was passed out on his bed, fully clothed and snoring. 

Despite everything that had happened between them in the last few hours he cannot help the smile tugging at his lips at the sight. He remembers the days they have spent like that, one of them passed out and the other watching over them not seldom with a shotgun in hands that should hold a football. In moments like that he hated John more than ever even if he knew in his more rational mind that the man had done what he thought was right. 

He snorted and stepped further into the room, winching when he saw the bruise forming on Deans face. Guilt started to gnaw at him like it always did in situations like that , paired with a heady does of anger because Dean had wanted that. Dean had provoked him, known full well what to do to drive him up each and every wall. 

It doesn´t matter in the end. His feet move on their own accord to the bathroom and after he gives his knuckles a rinse to wipe away the blood that has dried there he soaks a towel, wanders back into the room and stands there for five minutes like an idiot who doesn´t know what he wants. Sam´s problem is that he knows what he wants, so much it can never be uttered in the light of day. 

“Sammy?”

There it is again, the relief in his gut that Dean is more or less alright, that he hasn´t ended up dead. In his darkest hours Sam always thinks that the thing that will be the end of his brother won´t be crawling out of a coffin but a bottle. 

“Don´t call me that.”

He gripes for good measure, tries to keep it light while Dean sits up and blinks. He looks lost , almost like a little kid that doesn´t know what he has done wrong and Sam hates that look for he knows what comes next.

“I am sorry, Sammy.”

The wet towel in his hand is heavy like lead but he keeps on walking towards his brother and sits down, presses it against his swollen nose, ignoring the hiss of pain, trampling down the urge to kiss him. They are brothers. He repeats it in his head like some silly old love song he knows the end of but hopes for another.

“I am sorry, too.”

He says instead and something passes between them that makes Dean blink rapidly and turn his head slightly.

“No Chick Flick moments.”

Dean says instead of letting the wetness in his eyes overflow, like always and like always Sam answers with a smile to bright to be real.

“No Chick Flick moments.”

Nearly two months pass and they are still not talking about it by the time they run into another case. Dean is fine with that, he really is. There is a reason for it all – and there is more than one reason he hates witches. Loads them like no other creature and that has to say something because he has seen a shitload of them in his life. 

“Can we go for ice-cream?”  
Dean prays for patience, he really does. Sometimes he wonders if the universe has it out for them and if somewhere in some dimension he has killed something to piss something else off for the rest of his life. He would curse some more but currently he cannot do so because a five year old is tugging at his hand.

“ _Deeeaan_. I want to have Pizza!”

Man, did he hate witches. Not that it always came down to toads and slime (so what if he was some neat freak and sanitized his car? Not that anybody would find out about that, ever – thank you very much) – no the spells. Apparently some witch had been pissed off - not because she had wanted to rule the world but had been in a battle over custody with her very human, very terrified douche of an ex husband and lost in court. Not that it had really counted for her that in her wrath of settling things into their right frame bodies had piled up. Dean scoffed. It had ended in a shouting match between the furious woman and him.

“You don´t even know how it is to have children, you testosterone steered bag of semen!”

Sam at this point had been to busy laughing his head off while coming to his aid with a shotgun which in turn had only pissed the woman off further while Dean tried to acess the situation at hand – which was really not easy because she had the child the whole mess had started over cradled against her body. Why could never ever be something easy like in these horror flicks he secretly loved to watch. Find the evil thing that killed, kill it in turn , go home and have pie. Naturally that wasn´t the Winchester way. 

“I do know more about raising children like you, you old hag.”

He doesn´t even know why he had said that but something in her tone had struck a nerve and made him loose his cool- which had made her smile.

“Well if it´s like that, I am doing you a favor.”

That had been twenty seconds before sparks had shot out of her her and she had vanished in a cloud of smoke that again had lead to Dean having the coughing fit of his life before he could focus on what hat had happened. 

“Sam? Sammy?”

There was a pile of clothes where Sam had stood mere minutes ago and a pair of huge hazel eyes blinked up at him. Alright, Sam was there. Four year old Sam.

“Dean? What is going on? Where´s dad? I am hungry!”

Man, did he hate witches. 

If there is a thing that scares him more than witches it is Bobby Singer laughing until he cries.

“Son of a bitch.”

He mutters under his breath because apparently Bobby is not done laughing his head off even when he heats them up some soup. Dean is so far out of his water that he doesn´t know where left and right is anymore.  
“Language, boy.”

Bobby grumbles, waggling a spoon in his general direction, one eye on Sam who even cursed into being a four year old, leafes through books. _Nerd_ , Dean thinks fondly.

“I don´t know why you lose your shit over something like that. You talked to your Angel friend, didn´t you?”

Dean thought that maybe, maybe he had done so much worse in another life to deserve all of that when he remembers the conversation he did have with Castiel. Not that Cas was someone he disliked, no the opposite was the case . Granted he had been shocked a bit to find out about Cas being an Angel currently on vacation but the man tended to understand every word quite literally and so they did have an conversation about how Dean had meant it for Cas being way to anally. 

He heaved a sigh. He hadn´t even prayed to Cas directly but being an Angel of the lord and all that he listened to prayers and had been there, headphones on his rumpled hair, eyes wide and blinking and Dean, with a four year old Sam at his side had squealed. Not that he would ever admit to that part in all his life. 

“Fuck my life.”

Was the first thing that had sprung to mind and left his mouth when the man had popped up in front of a hotel parking lot half across the country where he owned a bar. Dean dimly asked himself why his life had become something close to the more or less worse episodes of Dr.Sexy and shuddered. Castiel, being a being not used to human contact all the time had stared at him and cleared his throat rather loudly.

“I am not entirely sure that you can penetrate life as such but I am here as you wished for heavenly guidance?”

Fuck his life. 

In the end there had been nothing that Cas would have been able to do since it wasn´t a spell that had meant harm. There were rules in heaven and all that shit, apparently. After thanking the Angel none the less for his effort he had consulted Bobby. After having his laugh fest about the overall situation at hand they had hit the books some more and came to the conclusion that the spell would wear off within a week. That wasn´t what had him on edge and Bobby noticed like he always did. 

“So, what´s eating you boy?”

Dean raised his eyebrows. 

“You mean – except that?”

He pointed at to where Sam sat and tried to force down the memories he had of that time in their lives, before they came tainted and splattered with blood.

“Yeah, you idjit.”

Leave it to Bobby, he thought wearily.

“Nothing.”  
He says and prays that the week will pass quicker than other weeks for some reason. 

“Bull, and we both know it.”

He wants to argue with the man but he knows there is no way he could win an argument with Bobby because the man has been more of a father to them than their own. Another thought that makes him wince as if someone has slapped him real good. Bless Bobby for being the one human being in their universe to keep his thoughts to himself although there is the Bobby Singer look of disapproval Dean knows since that time he has filled Bobbys Gas tank with water just out of spite after having an argument with the man. 

“Want a beer?”

Bobby asks instead of giving him the stern talking to he probably has in mind and he gratefully accepts the ice cold bottle out of the fridge. In the end the week passes without major happenings and nobody ends up being poisoned, cursed ( well, more cursed in Sammys case) or stabbed to which is also grateful , because in his track record that is something close to victory.

By the time Valentine´s day rolls around they are somehow back to their normal ways.. Normal for them anyway but there is no way that Dean lets some stupid ass monster or ghost ruin his favorite holiday of the year. Unattached drifter Christmas, he calls it and Sam rolls his eyes before training them back on the laptop and scanning the news for something that might be out of the ordinary. Things have gone quiet and he knows he shouldn´t worry but there is a feeling in his bones he cannot quite shake off and the reason it is making his skin crawl is that he doesn´t know where to place it. 

Maybe it is because Dean is so cheerful he wants to douse him in holy water only to make sure if he is really himself. The last few months have made him a tad weary when it comes to spells and curses as much as he never really talks about it. There hasn´t been a word from Crowley either so at least that counts as good news.

“Can you just stop your god damned humming! I am trying to read here. ”

Dean stopped mid hum and tried his best not to look insulted because in his own opinion his rendition of Cherry Pie was accurate and very pleasant to the ears. 

“Yeah, so? Would it kill you to have fun once in a while.”

Sam closed his laptop with more force than necessary and scowled at Dean.

“If your version of having fun is ending up in some dive with a strip of condoms thinly disguised as a tie and not masking your intentions for the evening at all the answer is no.”

Dean narrows his eyes at Sam and crosses his arms over his chest.

“What got your panties in a twist Samantha?”

He asks, all ready to rise to the challenge Sam has seemingly unbeknownst thrown his way. Sam looks at him, nostrils flaring and rises to his feet.

“As much as I recall I am _not_ the One that wears panties but I could call Rhonda Hurley up, see if she remembers that particular different than me or the rest of the school.”  
So Rhonda had talked Dean things with a dark blush covering his face and a nervous tremble in his fingers not clutching his wallet and car keys. Sam steps closer. 

“Secondly, I don´t know what is wrong with your memory but you know how well all my relationships went and the only steady One I have is with my brother, well don´t I have god to thank for that.”

The second it leaves his mouth Sam regrets saying it but it is too late. The damage is already done and he knows it will not help to say anything more to make the flash of hurt vanish from his brothers face. He swallows. 

“Dean.”

He tries but Dean just nods, gives him a tight smile and leaves. Sam is yet again left behind a closed door and that nagging feeling of being the asshole of the century for saying something like that. It came out so many shades of wrong that he doesn´t even know how he could right that, take it back or twist it so it makes sense, so it isn´t something that would be labeled a crime by society, he just can´t. He thinks of the time he had his moment of clarity, just like his brother without knowing it in the slightest. 

It had been just before Stanford and he remembers it clear as day, as if it would have happened ten minutes ago and not nearly ten years. They had hunted something back then, with John and like always he had come along just so he would know they would be save, just because he had overheard John talking to Dean in a tone that wasn´t to be argued against- keep him save, he is your brother and like always Dean had followed which had left him poisoned and with a fever that ranged on critical. It hadn´t been out of the ordinary for him to stay behind with Dean and look after him for a moment, trying his best not to let the soup boil over or his brothers fever strike while John got rid of what had remained of the monster they had killed. 

He doesn´t really know how or why he had done it but Dean, feverish and squirming, kicking off sheets to the Motel floor had called his name. 

“Sammy.”

He had said over and over again and Sam hadn´t known what to do but to talk low and hopefully soothing to the man after setting the soup aside. He had flopped down on the bed next to his sick brother, stroked his damp hair from his forehead and then it had happened. He had placed a tender loving kiss on his forehead before he had frozen in shock and reared back, knocking hot soup all over his thighs and waking Dean in the process. So in the end that had been the last thing he had needed to make up his mind and leave, built a new life – try to be normal and yet here they were. 

He cursed, punched the wall and went out to the Parking lot only to see that the Impala was missing and that Dean also wouldn´t need to come back because he had left his clothes in the car it being Valentine´s day and all. 

Sam closed his eyes and went back inside. It was better that way, or so he tried to tell himself. 

Dean stays gone for two days and when he comes back he nearly falls into the door of their room. Sam doesn´t even hesitate, just runs towards him and cradles him close. 

“What the fuck happened to you?”

He says harshly, blood pumping in his ears, making them ring. Dean gives him a bloody smile.

“Got a joke for you. A Shapeshifter and an Vampire go into a bar...”

Dean doesn´t even finish what he wants to say before passing out. Sam is good in taking count of injuries, he really is used to it by now but he never really wants to acknowledge that he is fucking terrified of putting his brother back together. He drives them in stony silence to Bobby´s and he crashes there into a fitful sleep. Due to Deans injuries they stay for the better part of a week and by the time they are ready to leave Sam has made a decision. 

He has to, because he knows that Dean will not make it for him or them – not this time and he is tired of running, afraid that Dean might end up dead because he rather picks different fights. He knows it is not a particularly wise move to act on some hidden impulse when Bobby could be back in two or three hours from his grocery run but he also knows that when Bobby says two hours it might as well become two days since he will run into someone he knows. That makes him smile before he focuses his attention elsewhere. 

Dean is packing, shoving everything he owns in his duffel – a move Sam is so familiar with that he knows every movement of the other man by heart.

“Hey there, Bobby back yet? I could use a beer you know, bruised ribs and all.”

Sam also envied Dean for sounding so casual while his body spoke a whole different language.

“I did it because of you.”

Dean stiffens and for a moment Sam is tempted to make a move backwards, to let Dean ask him if he is drunk or what the hell he is talking about but he doesn´t want that because if he doesn´t end it now, it will never end, they will be distracted , they will get hurt or worse. Being a Winchester there is always the possibility of it becoming worse.

“Care to elaborate that Sammy?”

Dean says after a lengthy pause and turning while Sam is firmly stares at his boots. Yeah, he needs more boots. After losing his shoe that one time, he always keeps an extra pair, much to Deans amusement but Dean is not laughing now, just staring at him with bottomless green eyes and a scrunched up nose. He is clearly thinking just about the same lines as himself and Sam licks his lips.  
He needs a minute to compose himself and uses it to lock the door behind him, locking everything but Dean and him out of the room they are standing in. The air is thick enough to cut. His voice seems sandpaper raw when he speaks, so strange he doesn´t even recognize it.

“Jo, Jo and me.”

Deans eyes widen for a moment but then he just swallows. 

“You and Jo.. because of me? So I couldn´t -woah. I mean , I don´t know what else you are planning to get rid of me but you´re sure as hell are on the right path there Sammy.”

Anger rises white hot in his body, makes him charge forward and grab Dean by the shoulders, slamming him against the wall and making him hiss but he doesn´t care because he realizes that Dean is giving him an out.  
“No, god damn it -let me finish what I was about to start.”

He grimaces, steps back as if burned and his eyes fill and begin to water but he swallows that down. It is funny that he feels like a child again, unsure of what to do or say, as if he would have been caught stealing something. He isn´t a child anymore and neither is Dean. 

“Sammy.”

Dean says almost pleadingly but Sam cannot go back anymore, doesn´t want to. 

“Just let me finish and if you never want to see me again in your entire life I could understand. I will leave and stay gone if you want me to but hear me out.”

He half expects Dean to make some wise ass remark but he stays silent. 

“It´s not that I hate you. Or that Jo hated you. Jo loved you – and so do I.”

He swallows again.

“No matter what you do or say, nothing could ever make me love you less and maybe – god help me , I know this is wrong but I do not want to love anybody else in my life. In my heart -or in my arms. It makes me mad and it wouldn´t be fair to you, so I have to leave but I don´t want to leave you with you..thinking..thinking I could ever hate you.”

By the time he is finished he knows tears slide down his cheeks and he feels faint, on the edge of breaking down and falling to his knees but Dean doesn´t turn his head away in disgust, he doesn´t start to shout or curse Sams very existence. He says nothing but steps into Sams personal space, not closer than ever before but this time with intent. His fingers, rough and calloused from wielding blades and guns, brush away droplets of water and he has to rise to the tips of his booted toes to succeed in the task. 

“I´ll hunt you down and kill you myself if you dare to leave me, Sammy. You got that?”

Sams eyes fly open and then they flutter close but Dean is having none of it. It´s at first a hesitant brush of lips against his own, warm and soft and just so right that he groans and lets his own hands wrap around Deans middle until Dean groans but not in pleasure so he steps back.

“You don´t do this because..”

Dean gives him a long stare.

“I am not good at talking – but no. I never do anything I don´t want. There are no take backs here, Sammy, got that?”

Yes, Sam got it and the frightened look in his eyes turned slowly but steadily into something else. 

“No Takebacks. No Chick Flick moments, well not more anyhow. Got it.”

Dean chuckles warmly, beckons Sam with a finger towards himself. The bed behind him is tempting, calling them both but he knows they haven´t got much time and there is no way in hell that bed is big enough for both of them to lay down so Dean pulls and pushes at Sam until the taller man sits.  
“Now that we got that, lets get to the fun part.”

Sam would protest at the corny line but is stopped by Deans tongue invading his mouth and his body betrays him, hips pressing up against the hard and unyielding body of his brother. He knows he should feel guilty, but he doesn´t and he stops thinking altogether when steady hands open his belt buckle with trained movements. Those same hands shove his boxers down and off and Dean hisses again, still in pain despite being aroused to the limit. 

Like always they know without words how to move and so Sam wordlessly scoots back, pulls Deans clothes off in something that comes close to haste and looks at him. For the first time in his entire life he lets himself enjoy it and his hands wander over surprisingly slim hips, strong thighs and just because he can his fingers ghost over Deans stomach and tickle him. He loves to make Dean laugh, knows which buttons to press but Dean is having none of the distraction and crawls back onto his lap.

His mouth opens

“If you´re about to ask me if I am sure of that Sammy I am gonna get dressed and leave you here like that.”

Sams mouth clicks shut audibly and his eyes close again when Dean starts his own exploring, sucks a bruise into is throat , pinches his nipples until they are stiff and his dick is slick between Deans spread legs. He cannot stand the teasing anymore, stands with the shorter body in his arms and holds Dean up against the wall. There is brief moment of silent understanding flowing between them, a blush on Deans face making his freckles stand out that Sam commits to memory and the nod he waits for.

Dean loves it for all the jokes he makes over Sam being overgrown when the other man slides home, harsh unforgiving thrusts that brush against his prostate ever so often that he has to muffle his screams by biting into Sams shoulder. Sam doesn´t let go, doesn´t slow down until he feels heat pool in his belly and comes so hard inside the other man that he can feel it dripping down his thighs. He holds Dean through it, uses his steady hard hand to jerk him off until there are nearly tears in Deans eyes from over stimulation but he doesn´t let go, doesn´t stop until Dean cries out and slumps against him, clinging tightly. 

Always attuned to each other Sam slips out, gently placing Dean on unsteady feet. There is no time for romantic gestures and so he simply grabs the nearest shirt (which is one of Deans favorite band shirt , which he will let Sam know every time they do it for the coming six months from this day but Sam doesn´t know that yet and neither does Dean) to wipe them off, snagging kisses and trying very desperate not to do it all over again which is not all that easy. 

They clean up and dress themselves quietly but they both know that nothing will be the same ever again and for just a minute there Dean thinks of what all the people might be saying or thinking that they have come across in their lives but he yet again has a moment of clarity , much like Sam. More or less an Epiphany. This is their ever after and everything else could go to hell. By the sated grin Sam throws him he isn´t the only one thinking it. 

“So,Tacos?”

Sam for all the world looks scandalized, trying in vain to get his hair in order and giving up after the tenth try.

“Would it kill you to eat a salad once in a while?”

Dean narrows his eyes.

“For all I know it might. God knows what they spray on the rabbit food you ingest.”

He punches Sam lightly in the shoulder and Sam in turn sticks out his tongue. Maybe not everything has to change he decides, opening the door and heading downstairs to where Bobby is juggling with shopping bags. 

“Will you two idiots ever grow up?”

He mumbles and Sam gets that look on his face.

“Sure, when Dean admits that Salad is food.”

Dean bristles on his way to the Impala.

“It, is – for rabbits. Get a move on _bitch_.”

Sam scoffs, lugging their bags into the trunk.

“Whatever, _jerk_.”

Bobby watches them for a long time just shaking his head. He has the feeling he missed something there but he also likes it when those two idiots are happy so he lets it rest. Crowley on the other hand is a different matter. One year comes and goes without so much as a sign until one late evening before Christmas there is a knock at their Motel room. 

Sam opens it, fresh from the shower, giving Dean a scowl for just lying naked on their rumpled sheets but looking his share all the same. With a frown he looks out into the hallway but sees nobody until he bumps his toe against something. A gift basket.

“What´s taking you so long?”

Sam doesn´t even dignify that with an answer but bows down to inspect what could be a trap all the same as far as he knows. It isn´t. It is a neatly wrapped Package from some store called Lush. He takes the brightly colored thing up in his arms and carries it in and dumps it on the table. 

“I am going to end him. I don´t even need a reason anymore. I will find one.”

A growl leaves Sams mouth and Dean takes that as enough of a clue to investigate himself. His face gets at red as the obscene red bow doing nothing to hide lube and condoms and if Dean would look closer he also would find toys and lingerie. He doesn´t. His ears feel hot when he snatches the card that had been attached to the basket from Sams fingers and reads out loud.

_“Save a horse, ride a Cowboy. Merry Christmas Moose and Squirrel. See you around , your friendly neighborhood royal.”_

If they were going to hell soon Dean would make sure to have words with Crowley. Crowley on the other hand didn´t need to know that despite Sams protest the thing wasn´t burned to cinders but very much put to use.

 

**The End**


End file.
